


Intersection

by sharedwithyou



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Iron Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Incredible Hulk - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst and Slight Humor, Angstangstangst, Bruce Angst, Bruce Banner Feels, Bruce Feels, Bruce Needs a Hug, Feels, No Mindfucks, Poor Bruce, SO SAD, WHY WON'T I LET MY LOVELIES BE HAPPY
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-22 02:38:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3711700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharedwithyou/pseuds/sharedwithyou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“We made our plans, Bruce.”</p>
<p>He was quiet, listening, as always. He wouldn’t speak unless he had to. You loved that about him; but tonight you wanted his voice.</p>
<p>“You made your plans and I made mine.”</p>
<p>“That was before we met each other.” When he spoke, he was cautious, gentle, and everything The Other Guy wasn’t. </p>
<p>“Tell me that changes everything.”</p>
<p>“Tell me that changes something.” But he couldn’t. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to say it; he didn’t have it in him to lie. Especially not to you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intersection

**Author's Note:**

> I've been dying to give Bruce some love!! He's actually probably my 2nd or 3rd fav avenger (stuck between him and tony as 2nd) but it's hard to write him! at least for me  
> and you'll see why
> 
> this took a lot out of me and actually made me cry
> 
> so be ready for angst, love, feels, sadness, and more angst
> 
> get the tissues ready
> 
> if you enjoyed this give me some love!

“We made our plans, Bruce.”

 

He was quiet, listening, as always. He wouldn’t speak unless he had to. You loved that about him; but tonight you wanted his voice.

 

“You made your plans and I made mine.”

 

“That was before we met each other.” When he spoke, he was cautious, gentle, and everything The Other Guy wasn’t.

 

“Tell me that changes everything.”

 

“Tell me that changes something.” But he couldn’t. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to say it; he didn’t have it in him to lie. Especially not to you.

 

His hands hung loosely at his side, looking for something to do, to hold on to, but finding nothing. His hair was tousled from too many nights up and too many days in bed, and honestly had it ever seen a brush? But he didn’t mind when you ran your fingers through it, smoothing it, soothing yourself and maybe him. You wanted to do it right now.

 

“(Y/n)…” Your name from his lips was music; you would never get tired of hearing it, just as you would never tire of breathing. Breathing in the scent of musty coffee and a hint of aftershave; because your chin would get scratched when he kissed you and if he forgot everything else it was your smile that lingered still, just outside his vision. And when your footsteps came and it had been long enough he would scurry off to the bathroom and nick himself twice with a razor just to feel your cheek on his.

 

You waited for him to finish what he had to say. He closed his eyes tiredly; from too much work and too much stress, and too much love. It was as if his body had taken what it shouldn’t have, couldn’t have physically; and the hulking beast beneath was borrowing from his capacity to be human; to feel and to hurt and to adore, to adore you. And oh how he adored you.

 

You had to know, didn’t you?

 

“I don’t want it to be this way.” That was a cop-out, a non-answer from anyone else but from Bruce the words were chosen specifically and that was the worst part. Because if there was something better to be said he would’ve said it.

 

“Yeah.” The relenting in your voice screamed defeat even when you allowed no disappointment on your face.

 

 

He looked around the two of you, at the papers strewn over a metal table, at the rumpled blankets in the cot in a corner and on the cracked glass of a wood-stained picture frame of you smiling so proudly at him beaming back at you. You called this his sanctuary, but if he had a temple you were the goddess and this was no place to worship you, no matter how hard he tried.

 

“Well, I’ll be going soon.”

 

Your stomach clenched in unison with his, but you were too stubborn to cry and you didn’t know if he had it in him. He had his finger on the pulse of his temper so often you wondered if he remembered how to feel sorrow. To grieve; to mourn. You guessed he would find out eventually, whether you wanted him to or not.

 

“I-“ he cut himself off and for a second you glimpsed the destruction you’d leave in your wake, and it wasn’t broken test tubes and holes in the Stark Tower walls and Clint tumbling unceremoniously from the vents. Because he never wasted a word and here he was grasping at straws, the letters escaping from his mouth in a desperation that he couldn’t articulate and definitely couldn’t control. You knew his face would be tingeing green soon, but below that frustration and hurt, was loneliness and betrayal. At the system and at karma and everything that had failed him in the one thing he cared about more than anything else.

 

You could yell for me, break for me, transform into a Giant Green Monster for me, but can you miss me Bruce? Just, miss me.

 

You wondered if he could see in your eyes just how much you wanted to kiss him right now. The silence that surrounded him when he had no idle chatter or simple conversation led to him watching you, learning you in any way he could. He was not born to entertain or placate; but he could study and observe, and there was no more important subject than you. And as you saw the longing etched into the lines across his face you wondered if his own nerves were working against him to mirror yours. Or did he just want you as much as you wanted him?

 

“Goodbye Bruce.” And you backed away step by deliberate step, so you wouldn’t lose sight of him until you were forced to turn down the hall. You wanted another moment of his face watching yours to add to your portfolio of Bruce memories; a study of pain and disappointment defied by brief happiness and an awe-inspiring joy that filled the cracks. Even the Black Widow and Hawkeye could not have foreseen this broken miracle but the honest to god truth was that you would be leaving it as your feet exited the building. Because maybe your love, the love story of Bruce and (y/n) was one for the books, but as far as you were concerned, the most beautiful and effervescent was the pale face staring at you leaving, a mixture of fear and disappointment and surrender.

 

And yet each foot behind the other as you lengthened the distance between the Dr. Jekyll to your Hyde you were begging him to say no; to put his foot down not as an Angry Radioactive Beast but as the shy mild-mannered genius who liked two sugars in his black coffee if anyone bothered to ask, who had silver nitrate on all the sleeves of dress shirts save for the brown one you gave him as a joke.

 

And you had asked, the day you had come in for a brief internship promising a month with the enigmatic billionaire Stark of research and training to become an eventual Agent. You had known as soon as you stepped into the tower that you’d be known as Cappuccino Chica and asked to wear a uniform he surely stole from Hefner’s closet.

 

Luckily you had already finished your physical examination and a headlock straightened Iron Boy out just fine. Of course he banished you to the lab of the infamous Dr. Banner as punishment; but you knew better. If anyone were to fear Bruce it would be the ones throwing waterballoons and blowing airhorns outside the room. Which would also happen to include Tony.

 

Bruce kept to himself and only spoke when necessary but his gentle smile stole your heart the first time you dropped a beaker on your foot and shouted “MOTHERFUCKER!” before looking in his direction, horrified. He had pointed you towards the mop and advised you to wear shoes that weren’t so cute from now on should they be dripped on by other chemicals.

 

You didn’t find out later that you had taken his by force the first day you came in and pulled out a well-worn Keurig and told him he would never be drinking stale coffee again. He never got used to vanilla spice and all those other “fancy flavors” but you found the perfect balance of two level teaspoons of sugar in a steaming fresh mug of any roast (light preferably though he didn’t consciously know the difference).

 

You had grown ballsy and teased him about rolling up his sleeves to hide the “blood stains,” which you knew for a fact were from silver nitrate spills. He had shaken his head and repeatedly pushed the brown button-up back at you that you had gotten him as a gag present until you told him you would kiss him if he wouldn’t accept it. He had snatched it from you then, crushing you slightly; he made up for it an hour later when he smoothed his fingers softly over your knuckles just under the cut the broken glass had made. One look at his guilt-ridden face had forgiven his outburst in your mind instantly. But you had milked it until he could no longer look you in the eye; and that’s when you had become his evil twin, his Mr. Hyde.

 

“I’ll forgive you on one condition, Bruce.”

 

“Anything.” He had met your eyes earnestly, the poor innocent boy.

 

“A kiss.”

 

He had turned a bright red and lowered his head, nearly having a cough spasm. Still you had waited patiently, ignoring his hemming and hawing and his if buts and ors.

 

And when he finally brushed his chapped lips against the back of your hand you knew you had won.

 

 

If he crossed the stretch between the two of you right now, you don’t know if you could ever stop kissing him.

 

But you had your plan; first stop, body; second stop, mind; third stop, uniform. And you weren’t going to be deployed with the Avengers, nor had you expected that. Or even wished it, up til now.

 

And Bruce had his plan; invent new things, save the world, don’t kill anyone unnecessarily. Maybe not necessarily in that order.

 

 

“We made our plans, Bruce. They weren’t supposed to intersect.”

 

“I know.” He wanted to drop his head in defeat, but if there was no other way he could fight, at least he would hold your gaze until you were gone from his sight and his life.

 

“And the thing about intersection is-“ your breath hitched but you blinked hard, refusing to give up. “At some point, the two lines diverge once more.”

 

“I’m aware of the definition, yes.” You both chuckled bitterly; a nerd joke to send you off. He whispered his next words; you almost missed them. “I’m glad they did.”

 

“Me too.” And as you turned down the hall away from him at last, the tears were running down your face;

 

But did you know, Dr. Banner had begun to cry as well?

**Author's Note:**

> WAHHHHHHHH
> 
> please please leave me a comment if you liked, i worked really hard on this
> 
> random ramblings:
> 
> this is why i don't often write brucie despite him being at the top of my lovelist- because this shit happens  
> i see him as so much more than an easy fluff piece, and well, the amount of work AND SOUL i put into this short one-shot was actually a bit exhausting for me
> 
> did the feels get to you as much as me? i actually cried a little when i re-read this as i posted it
> 
> but i am so so proud of it so please gimme some love if you enjoyed!
> 
> quick poll:  
> did this fic make you love Bruce more? were you already a Brucie fan?
> 
> i'm probably going to make a sequel, so let me know if you'd like that. actually give me props if you'd like that =)
> 
> quick poll 2: which line was hardest for you to read?
> 
> i'm so drained emotionally. I put so much HEART into this, i have no idea how it happened but i'm drowned in feels and bucky needs a hug now.
> 
> XOXO


End file.
